


Think of Me, I’ll Think of You

by StacyHolmes



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, Geralt Is In Denial, Jaskier is a trouble magnet what else is new, M/M, Mute!Jaskier, Some fluff too, cursed!Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27093001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StacyHolmes/pseuds/StacyHolmes
Summary: Jaskier gets cursed protecting Geralt.Geralt isn’t going to fix it, or so he tells himself.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 253





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I already have one WIP, but this one is only going to have one more chapter, so it doesn’t count, right? Right.

What was surprising to Jaskier is that he hadn’t shed a single tear. Yes, he was sad. Yes, he’s been drinking for first week without stopping. But he hasn’t cried yet, so he must be okay, right? 

Honestly, Jaskier’s been preparing himself for this moment. He knew Geralt didn’t really need him, duh, and it was only a matter of time that he left him for good.

Jaskier made his choice to stay by his side for however long it took for Geralt to get rid of him and the time has come. 

He’ll work it out and he’ll be fine, eventually.  
It probably wasn’t the best idea to stay at the inn Jaskier is staying at, though, he realizes as a mage approaches him. 

She looks positively vicious. 

Jaskier knows she’s a witch right away – he’s spent enough time with a certain Witcher to recognize the danger, and now that he’s alone he also has to be wary of it. 

“What is troubling you, young lark?” She asks almost nicely which clashes terribly with her looks.

“Um. You?” 

“How rude.” Mage sits in front of him and Jaskier totally regrets not choosing another inn. “And here I thought I could do my good deed. Help a human.”

“Not that I’m not thankful, but why?” 

“I know that look in your eyes. I know a broken heart when I see one.” She smiles and there’s something dangerously sly in the way her mouth moves.

“I prefer to mend my heart with fine wine, thank you.” Jaskier retorts. He wants to leave but he knows he won’t outrun the mage. 

“I can hurt them for you. Don’t you want a revenge?”

“That I prefer to do by writing nasty songs. See, I’m all set.” Jaskier smiles brightly in hopes to avoid her noticing the way he goes suddenly cold at the thought of someone hurting Geralt on his behalf.

“Well, suit yourself.” She stands up slowly, almost like she’s made of our fluid. “However, you must know how wrong it is to be ungrateful when proposed help...”

The mage waves her hand in some complicated motion and then she’s gone. Jaskier doesn’t feel anything but he knows she did something. Something bad. 

He goes to his room fearing that he caused Geralt one more problem without even being next to him. 

***

Jaskier wakes up next morning feeling empty. Not a new feeling, per se, but there’s something bigger in it. As he tries to cures, he finds out that he can’t. His mouth moves but no sound comes out. _Fuck_. 

***

Geralt moves through the forest slowly, Ciri’s chatter serves as background noise and he likes the sound even if it reminds him of-

No.

He’s not thinking of it, he’s got bigger things to worry about. 

“Geralt!” Ciri almost shouts, which means it’s not the first time she’s called his name. 

“Hm?”

“I asked if we can stop somewhere with an actual bed tonight. My back aches from sleeping on the ground.”

Geralt’s wants to argue, say that it’s less dangerous that way, but they’ve been out in the forest for more than a week and he really does feel sorry for a child. He leads Roach downhill and Ciri smiles contentedly.

They enter the most shabby inn in the village, on Geralt’s insistence. No need to attract any extra attention. Here, at least, he hopes no one but drunkards will be in their close proximity. 

He’s not wrong, the place is small and stinks of sweat and vomit, but there’s other smell somewhere underneath it, that catches his attention. It’s faded enough for him to know that Jaskier isn’t here anymore, but. But. 

“Is there a bard here?” He asks the innkeeper. “Brown hair, posh clothes, never shuts up?”

“Aye,” The man answers, looking from him to Ciri. Geralt moves child behind his back without looking away from innkeeper, looking for any signs of recognition – thankfully not finding one – and almost loosing the thread of conversation. “One named Jaskier stayed here for some time, not after he gone mute, though. Had to throw him out last night. What’s good about silent bard, eh?”

And, okay, Geralt could probably make a list about what can be good about this particular bard being silent, but no. Something must really be wrong. Jaskier and mute aren’t two things that can coexist. 

But it’s not his problem anymore, is it? The bard can take care of himself, and whatever shit he’s gotten himself into isn’t Geralt’s fault. So he just grunts and pays for a room with two beds and a hot bath. 

He’ll think about it come morning, or, preferably, not at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it’s gonna have one more chapter. Oops?

Jaskier sleeps outside. It’s nothing new, but combined with his newfound curse, it’s a hard night. He doesn’t have coin to rent a room, and he won’t be given one free out of coin if he cannot sing for it. 

So, sleeping outside it is. He hides his dagger under the makeshift pillow and desperately hopes to find a cooperative sorcerer tomorrow.

He wakes just after the sunrise and leaves immediately. 

***

Geralt follows the trail of the scent in the morning almost absently, Ciri follows him with a curious expression. 

“Are we going some place particular?” She inquires.

Geralt hums in response. That’s the best answer he can give since he, himself, doesn’t know where they’re going. 

“So talkative.” Ciri rolls her eyes, but the smile still lingers on their face, so Geralt isn’t worried. 

He can feel the scent a bit more clear out in the woods – Jaskier is no longer than a half day away. With Ciri riding Roach and Geralt quickening his pace they can reach him by nightfall. Though Geralt still isn’t sure why. He doubts Jaskier will be happy to see him after the mountain, and it’s possible that he already solved his silence problem. Hell, it’s possible it wasn’t even a problem. Jaskier might as well just have a sore throat, he gets sick fairly easy, he’s human after all. Geralt resolutely doesn’t think about other possible causes of Jaskier’s sore throat. 

So, it’s very likely that Jaskier is all good. Then why Geralt’s traitorous brain can’t stop providing him with pictures of Jaskier, mute and helpless, without coin and a way to earn it, dying from hunger somewhere behind the rattled tavern? 

Guilt is an unwelcome feeling, but the one he’s used to, so he takes it, takes it all and persuades himself that he’s following Jaskier out of it, and that once he helps him, the guilt will finally cease. 

“Can you hear it?” Ciri perks up on the Roach. “Someone’s playing!”

Geralt can hear it, of course. He’s been carefully listening to Jaskier’s lute for last forty minutes, trying to make out his voice behind the music and failing. 

“Let’s see.” Geralt finally hurries through the woods to meet Jaskier. 

“Really?” Ciri shrieks, ecstatic. 

Gerald grunts and leads Roach deeper into the woods.

Geralt sees Jaskier and something almost gentle settles somewhere in his heart. He doesn’t pay the feeling any mind and readies himself to call out to the bard, but Ciri beats him to it:

“Jaskier!” She sounds delighted and surprised and Geralt frowns.

Jaskier turns around sharply and his face lightens up as he sees Ciri. He does some curtsy, but in the middle of it his eyes catch Geralt, standing a bit behind Roach and he straightens abruptly, his rosy cheeks loosing all the color.

“Oh, I haven’t seen you in ages!” Ciri climbs off the horse and runs to Jaskier to hug him tightly. Jaskier is evidently taken aback by it but he hugs her in return and smiles softly.

Geralt can’t help but notice it doesn’t really reach his eyes and that the bard smells of something akin to a fear, but not quite. Anxiety, maybe. 

“You haven’t been to the court for years! Why?” Ciri steps back a little and watches Jaskier’s face, waiting for an answer that doesn’t come. 

Geralt is surprised to know that Ciri and Jaskier somehow know each other, but he has questions that are more important at the moment.

“What happened?” He demands.

Jaskier takes a step back and avoids looking at Geralt. It’s annoying.

“Jaskier.” He growls.

At that Jaskier reluctantly lowers his bag from his shoulder and ruffles through it, until he finds a quill and his old music notebook. He steps closer to Geralt when he’s done writing and turns the pages to him.

 _Got cursed. You okay_?

Geralt quickly checks himself for some kind of a curse that he might’ve missed and nods. 

“Good.”

Jaskier nods at that, relived, and bows to Ciri again. Then he picks up his back and turns to leave. 

Geralt stops him by grabbing his wrist and tugging at it until bard turns around.

“What exactly happened?” He pesters.

Jaskier sighs and starts writing again once Geralt lets go of his wrist.

 _Mage found me. Wanted to revenge you for me, I said no. She got offended. Took my voice_.

“Fuck.” Geralt’s mutters. Ciri peers into the notebook and gasps.

“Why would she do that?” She sounds just as angry as Geralt feels.

Jaskier shrugs, smiling a bit at her. 

“Can’t you go a day without getting in trouble? Don’t you fucking know better than to offend a mage?” He looks at Jaskier who stubbornly doesn’t look back. At least, he stars to scribble something else, before shoving it almost aggressively in Geralt’s face. 

_The only other option was to let her curse you. What the fuck else could I do_?

“You let her curse _me_ , you idiot!” Geralt’s voice raises enough for Ciri to look at him with silent question in her eyes. Jaskier starts to write again.

 _You’ve done enough saving. You made yourself clear and you don’t own me anything_. 

“You,” Geralt starts accusatively, but his anger at Jaskier’s thoughtfulness gives a way to well known guilt. “C’mon.”

Jaskier raises his brows in question.

“Gotta find a mage to lift the curse.”

Jaskier shakes his head, his eyes cold and distant. And maybe a little bit hurt, but Geralt doesn’t want to think about it. 

“Stop being so fucking stubborn.” Geralt growls. 

Not a good tactic, he realizes when Jakier folds his arms on his chest and looks at him challengingly. 

Geralt wants to punch something or someone, maybe even himself. Melitele knows he deserves it.

“Please let us help.” Comes Ciri’s soft voice. She sounds so sad that it makes Geralt shiver.

“I really want to hear you sing again.” She adds in tiny voice, and Geralt can see Jaskier’s defense crumbling at that. 

He lets out a long breath and waits for bard to collect his things, before leading Roach back to the village. 

He hopes desperately that mage is still somewhere in there. He hopes yet more to find a right thing to say to Jaskier to make that awful look in his eyes disappear.


	3. Chapter 3

They manage to find a mage, thankfully. Geralt doesn’t think he can handle sulking bard for much longer. He used to think that Jaskier’s constant chattering was overwhelming but now he’s about ready to withdraw his statement. Mute Jaskier is worse than a dozen of drowners. 

Geralt makes Ciri stay with Roach, close enough to the village for him to hear if she calls, but far enough from curious eyes. 

Walking with just Jaskier again feels a little bit like coming home, but it is also tense this time, loaded with echo of Geralt’s accusations.

The mage, elderly lady with short white curls and dark, wrinkled skin, takes one look at Jaskier and shakes her head.

“Nothing I can do. Curse can only be lifted by the one who caused it.”

“So we need to find mage who cursed him?” Geralt can feel headache forming behind his eyes.

“Not the one who cursed him, Witcher. The one who caused the soul ache. Magic can do nothing for a broken heart.”

 _Broken heart_.

Geralt turns on his heels and leaves the village in wide strikes. Broken heart. His head buzzes with thoughts like a disturbed hive. He did it. It’s his fault. Fuck.

They reach Ciri and Roach, Jaskier following Geralt grimly. He doesn’t look at him, doesn’t fidget or even moves more that necessary. It’s infuriating.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” Geralt demands, way too sharply.

Ciri looks at him with accusation in her eyes but he can’t control his voice right now, doesn’t know how to keep his heart at it’s usual slow rate.

Jaksier takes his notebook again and writes something, his eyes gleaming with something bitter.

 _Looks like this time it’s YOU bringing trouble upon ME. Consider it your vengeance_.

“My-“ Geralt halters. “What are you talking about?”

Waiting for Jaksier to write down his answer is a small torture. 

_You can go back on your merry way now. I’ll certainly be off your hands now that I can’t sing anymore, not even my songs should disturb your brooding_.

“You are insane.” Geralt growls. “I didn’t curse you. I didn’t make you piss off the mage!”

Jaskier tears off the page he’s written his answer on and hands it to Geralt. His eyes are not bitter anymore, just sad. 

_No. You made me fall in love with you and then you broke my heart. Looks like it was enough_.

When Geralt lifts his eyes from the paper Jaskier is already walking away from him.  
It hurts like it certainly shouldn’t.

Geralt didn’t make Jaskier fall in love with him. He did complete opposite – he was rude, unwelcoming, silent. And Jaskier, fool that he is, loved him anyway.

Ciri nudges him, and when he looks down at her her eyes are questioning, silently asking of his next step. Geralt is moving before he can think better of it, and in a blink of an eye he closes his fingers around Jaskier’s wrist.

“Bard.” He mutters, throat suddenly dry. “Jaskier.”

Jaskier reluctantly turns around and with a deep sigh looks up at him.

“You shouldn’t love me. We both know I don’t deserve it.”

Jaskier shakes his head at that, sad, fragile smile on his lips. 

“I’m a Witcher. We are not made to be loved. Not even your enormous heart should be able to love a thing like me.”

Jaskier frowns, his hand reaches out to touch Geralt’s chest. He gently taps against his armor with the one finger, then moves it in circle around his heart.

Geralt has no idea what he’s trying to say. 

“I- Jask.” His voice is hoarse. He catches Jaskier’s hand when he moves to retreat it and holds it against his ribs for a second before letting it go. “I shouldn’t love you, too. You’re loud and bright and everything I’m not.” 

Jaskier nods, his face completely unreadable, and turns around again. Geralt is sick of watching him leave.

“I shouldn’t love you.” He repeats. “But I do.”

It makes Jaskier stop in his track. Geralt closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in hopes to calm his stupid heart.

“You’re such a damn idiot!” Jaskier exclaims, his voice high and clear despite him not using it for so long. Geralt’s eyes fly open in time to see a bard flinging at him and suddenly he has his bard in his arms, smaller frame pressed close to his chest, arms around his neck. “I fucking hate you so much.”

“You should.” Geralt agrees, but can’t fight a smile because Jaskier isn’t walking away from him anymore, he’s right here, and he smells so good it makes Geralt’s head swim. 

He wonders if that’s how love smells and is proven right when his lips leave a chaste kiss on the top of Jaskier’s head and the scent all but engrosses him. 

He never wants to smell anything else he on Jaskier ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, Geralt’s fixed what he broke. Hope you liked it! <3


End file.
